We are the Grashien people who live on the island of Gras inside Mt. Marina. The humans – we call them Anacogi, which means outsiders – have completely forgotten our existence outside of history books and fairy tales. They’ve tried to kill us every time our existence has become known, so we hide.

Contrary to what their science claims, magic does exist, and it’s the reason that none of their technology can find us. We have the occasional off-course boat find us, but the animals always guide them away before they can see us. All they would see anyway is a few feet of land sloping toward a hole in the middle. At low tide they might see six feet of rock, if that; at high tide, our island all but disappears. Thankfully, we don’t actually live on the surface.

It might sound a little odd when I say we live in a volcano, but we do. Mt. Marina is an extinct volcano with a deep caldera, which is dry, solid, and as cool as if you were in a cave, although sunlight comes down through the hole in the top. The sides come up at such an angle that the opening of the caldera is much smaller than the floor. Despite being surrounded by the ocean, the river that trickles in through the rocks near the top of the wall is fresh and clean, and forms a lake further down (the lake apparently drains by magic, as there’s no current).

If you were to come, unsuspecting, to our island, and look down from the mouth of the caldera, you would find exactly what you would expect to find – glowing, bubbling lava; shimmering heat waves emanating from the churning liquid rock; sulfurous steam emitted from multiple sources inside the bowl; the charring, burning sensation of standing over something hot for too long – but if you were to then lean back and examine yourself, you would find yourself unharmed. Perhaps you might become suspicious – but I doubt you would be willing to jump into what looks like a lava pit to test those doubts. In this manner, we are protected from uninvited guests.

If, on the other hand, you were already aware of our presence, and looked down from the same vantage point, you would be able to see the entire island. You would be amazed at the variety: forests of every kind, with every type of tree imaginable; fields of grains and grass; a lake with sandy shores, fed by a deep, clear river with rocky banks and a sandbank in the center flowing from a crack in the rocks; a small, crystalline stream trickling into several shallow pools in a meadow bursting with flowers of more variety than you can dream of; places in shadow with perpetual snow, despite our position directly on the equator; dark cave entrances – the only climate we don’t get to experience is desert, but no one misses it anyway.

If you looked closer, you would see simple, clearly hand-built houses near the river and beside the lake. You might notice the old-style farm tools near the grain fields, or the small boats on the sand by the lake. If you looked closer still, you could see the wash stations on one side of the sandbank in the river; on the opposite bank and upriver a little is a first-aid station, situated so that the soap spuds don’t get in the wounds. If you were extremely observant, you might even notice the small gazebos lining the stream in the meadow.

Gras is a place where creatures thought not to exist can hide from the prying eyes of the Anacogi. As such, if you explore the caves, you’ll find thunderbirds and firebirds hiding in the dark tunnels; if you walk to the snowy regions, you might spot a yeti; if you wander through the forest, you’ll see unicorns and pegasi; and no matter where you look, you’ll see fairies, griffins, and evidence of magic.

If you were to walk among us, presumably unnoticed, you might think we’re elves. Our ears are slightly pointed, our eyes are odd colors – but if you just glanced at us, we would pass for human. This is how we get through Amoran, visiting time when we’re teens to explore the mainland and human society. While we could blend with humans in looks, though, our culture would never fit in.

Grashiens mature unusually young. Girls tend to be fully developed by age eight and boys by nine; while marriages aren’t arranged, kids usually get married when they’re eleven or twelve, and it’s not unusual to have kids before fifteen. We start training at age three; we’re allowed to start hunting at five.

Grashiens are also unusual in that we have, to a human at least, extraordinary powers. We are telepathic and can read minds; we have some control over the elements, including nature; we are shifters (each person has a specific animal category – like felines or canines or reptiles – that they can morph into); we can breathe underwater; we are impervious to fire; we have “magic,” to a degree; we are extremely fast; and we can understand and speak any language spoken to us.

On Gras, we have fairly limited options for materials, so everyone has basically the same thing. Even when there’s a difference between one person’s house and the next, it’s because they built it themselves and this is what they wanted their house to look like.

We are a matriarchal society. We have an Aklumna (former Sumna, advises her daughter; there is always an Aklumna); a Sumna (chieftainess); and a Kli Sumna (literally translating as Daughter Sumna, it basically means Heir to the Throne – if there was a throne). Their husbands and brothers do pretty much nothing political. The Sumna herself is mostly a figurehead: the Chaklo (council) makes most of the minor decisions, allowing her time to do other things to keep the people happy and the society running. Major decisions, like to reveal ourselves to humans (a quinquennial debate) or who’s going to take the place of a council member who just died, are given to the people to come together and decide on. When everyone (or most people, at least) is happy, the decision is implemented.

In the end, the people control the island. If they don’t like the current Sumna, they will march to her house and request that she step down. Since all Grashiens are connected mentally, if the people are agreed on something, she can’t go against the basis of our society – we stand together, so she will be forced to do as the people wish. Her daughter will take over; if the people dislike her as well, they will come together and choose a new woman to assume the title.

We have no war, because we have no reason for war. Jealousy, religion, and power – the three main reasons humans fight – have no place here. We all have the same choices for materials; we don’t use money or even trade (everything anyone makes gets put into a communal building, so if you need something – food, clothes, etc. – you go get it); our “religion” is proven fact, which is hard to refute; and everyone has equal power, since the council takes into consideration the opinions of the people when making decisions.

Despite our lack of conflict, we’re taught every method of fighting known to humans, as well as how to use our abilities to aid our fights. Each of us can use any weapon available to us in any situation and know how to fight against any sort of opponent. Even without using our powers, we can out run most vehicles, out swim the fastest ships; if one of us entered the Olympics, we could put even the most talented athletes to shame in any area. Most of the time, if we aren’t doing something productive, we’re training.

Since we’re taught dancing and gymnastics as part of our fight training, we have a unique style that incorporates the flowing movements of dance into the powerful hits of fighting and the acrobatics and gymnastics into dodging techniques for evasion.

We only have one city on the island – Schlighterscromben (Shifterhaven) – which is split in half by the river, forming two villages – Schlighter (Shifter) and Scromben (Haven). Schlighter is where all the training equipment is and Scromben is where the farms are.

Most of the time, our island is protected by the animals who live around it. Sea creatures and storms are really good at pushing ships off course; if that doesn’t work, the same magical shield that protects us from the ocean guards us against most visitors. No human has ever set foot on our island.

Until now.